


Insanity's Anchor

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Family, Fear, Fluff, Friendship, Frustration, Horror, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Lisa Germano, M/M, Partial amnesia, Protective Castiel, Protective Gabriel, Romance, Romantic Gabriel, Sacrifices, Sappy, Tragedy, Traumatized Dean Winchester, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, post purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes Purgatory back with him. AU, set in the Post-Purgatory of Season 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insanity's Anchor

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Shimmer of a Filling Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/534841) by [Taste_of_Suburbia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia). 



> _Hints of Dean/Castiel_  
>  This is a bit of a companion piece to ‘A Shimmer of a Filling Space,’ it’s actually set right after that drabble. You don’t have to read it, but it may help to clarify one point or another.  
> I found this abandoned on my computer and decided to just upload it. I don’t even really know what this thing is, all I know is that I am still obsessed with Purgatory and Post-Purgatory fics. The way I see it, Purgatory would have been a great mechanism for getting Dean and Gabriel to hook up. But, oh well, I can dream while I cry nonstop.  
>  **Soundtrack:** Lisa Germano’s ‘From A Shell’

_~And the earth spins round_  
 _While the people fall down~_

When Dean gets out of Purgatory there is silence and pain and a startling clarity to everything around him that only makes him infinitely dizzier and more exhausted. There is a pounding in his heavy head that won’t abate, voices of souls still craving him that scream shrilly in his ear. 

He considers going back to Purgatory, it feels more like home than any of this now. 

He makes the vow. 

The vibrant colors around him make his entire body ache, compared to the dull ones that became so familiar, that became so needed in the wasteland his soul still clutches tight. The green of the trees, the cerulean sky and the vibrant pinks and yellows of the distorted buildings around him all scream out for separate attention. 

It takes everything in him not to scream. Even more to not beg Purgatory to take him back, where he can feel at least a fragment of what it might mean to be whole again. 

His limbs are weak but somehow he finds the will curled up tight within him to go on, to crawl if he can’t walk, to endure more agony so he won’t break. His fingers twitch and his eyes burn from an invisible fire, he curls up against a concrete wall. 

He slips down terrifyingly into the opposite of peace. 

 

_~And the world stands still_  
 _Not a sound, not a sound~_

There is a hand holding his own when he wakes, another stroking his forehead. His eyes don’t protest opening, but his heart aches once more for something he knows he can never have again. 

The short, charcoal hair that he once fantasized curling around his fingers gives proof to the giver of the affection.

Castiel’s slight smile lights up his entire world for a minute before the tears start coming for no reason. There are lips moving but his ears pick up no sound. There is a silence so profound that he cannot possibly describe it. No more voices in his head; no deep, grating voice that he’s known for so long murmuring words of reassurance. Castiel’s face seems to break then, and he lies down next to Dean; his mouth is no longer moving but the fingers that stroke Dean’s thigh lightly manage to do all the talking. 

Dean blinks the tears back and let’s his vision hone in on the angel. He remembers Sam, has an inkling that something is terribly wrong with him and he doesn’t want his brother to see. But Castiel... it’s okay if he sees. He can always read how broken Dean is. 

His thumb touches Castiel’s cheek hesitantly; his face blurs for a moment, but his big, heavily concerned blue eyes permeate through the haze. He mouths the words slowly so that the hunter can understand, ‘I will protect you.’ 

Dean thinks, ‘But you didn’t.’ 

And then he tries to remember the name of the man with the amber eyes and the smile that once melted his entire world into thousands of tiny pieces. Every part of him so seemingly important and permanent and beautiful in its own way, and Dean would long just to reach out to him and sometimes he would be able to, but then those amber eyes would explode, burned into his vision, and his form would dissolve without a moment’s pause into ash. And Dean’s fingers would grow numb and his mind would draw a blank. 

He can’t remember. He sleeps. 

 

_~There is love, there is love_  
 _To be found_  
 _In the worst way, in the worst way_  
 _In the worst way~_

Dean’s eyes instantly latch onto Sam’s face; he’s collapsed in a chair barely a foot away from the bed, eyes open and wide when they latch onto Dean’s own, deep creases of stress decorating his forehead, shoulders suddenly slumping with relief, but the way Sam watches him... there’s something wrong with it. Something wrong with _Dean._ He speaks foreign words that Dean doesn’t understand. 

Though at least he can hear now. 

He doesn’t try to move, it takes too much effort to move. He can barely feel the bed underneath him, it doesn’t comfort him or ease his pain; then again, it’s not causing discomfort either, so he barely registers it. Dean misses the hard packed dirt ground of Purgatory, the feel of it against his straining back something he all too quickly had to grow accustomed to; or the mud he would sink down in, utterly spent, and run his fingers through when the rain wouldn’t cease for days, days so long he could drown so easily in them, and no matter how cold he would get it wouldn’t kill him. His jacket hadn’t lasted long enough to provide him with cover or warmth. 

He wants to scream at Sam to say something he’ll understand, wants Castiel back, who didn’t try to understand, who was just there lying next to Dean, not caring, just being there. 

Sam looks good, he’s let his hair grow out and it’s thicker and looks infinitely softer. His hand reaches out slowly to acknowledge it and run his fingers through it, but then he thinks better and tucks his hand back against his chest. 

He’s missed Sam.

He misses the wasteland that stole his soul more. 

“Dean, can you hear me? Are you understanding anything I’m saying?” He nods, forgets how to yawn, falls back asleep anyway. 

 

_~It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz_  
 _It’s the buzz_  
 _It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz_  
 _I wish I was~_

His entire world freezes when Sam brings in his supposed girlfriend and introduces her. She smiles but Dean can see it all too well, how she judges him, the grin behind her facade that brags of having Sam now, of keeping him for her own. 

He doesn’t remember much more than surging forward, blood in his mouth, the hunger raging once more, not able to take no for an answer. 

Dean wants to tear her apart, wants her blood to feed the growls and the screams of the souls, wants them to keep promising Purgatory like it will happen sooner rather than later. Sam and Castiel want desperately to deny him of these things, what they don’t get is that he needs them to survive, and that he will do anything at all to go back. 

The only things left now are the vows and the promises. The world, other than that, is a mess he no longer wants to understand. 

Sam steps in front of her, shoves him away; Dean blacks out for a second until Castiel’s voice brings him back to a twisted reality, a world that he no longer belongs to. It’s painful but he accepts it; the three of them look at him like he’s a freak, like they don’t know him at all and he’s fine with it. The souls make him promises he wants to believe, they know what’s best for him. 

Everything is still and in silence, they tell him how disappointed they are in him, of how Purgatory will never ever take him back. They speak in her voice, her face surges at him and he can’t figure out whether it’s in his head or real. 

He loses control faster than he can take a breath. 

It feels good. 

“Are you okay? Dean?” Sam asks, his voice cracking on the last word. “You were screaming. Dean, answer me!”

He ignores his brother and falls back into Castiel’s embrace unwillingly, arms that hold him down and restrain him, that gravelly voice again urging him to hold on, at least for his sake because he’s never given up on Castiel and why should the angel leave him now? For the rest of the day, he blocks out everything around him except for when Castiel forces Dean to look at him by bringing his face so painfully close in front of him, or the occasional words he speaks that enter, pretty much unheard, into his ringing ears. Still, he doesn’t know what the angel expects from him. 

Castiel tries to pick up the pieces. 

What he doesn’t get is that there are none left to pick up. 

 

_~It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz_  
 _It’s the most fuzz~_

He remembers Castiel carrying him back to bed and laying down next to him again. Somewhere in that bed, Dean can feel some semblance of peace, can feel a piece of Purgatory clinging onto Castiel, trying to drag him down alongside Dean, and he almost wants to push Cas but he can’t, he knows better than to drag the angel into this. 

Dean reaches for it, his fingers throb, burn, make him grit his teeth in pain. Castiel looks at him with confused and somewhat scared eyes, Dean only wants that little piece more.

Only wants to protect Castiel. 

The voices start back up again, their mouths opening and closing, ready to bite down. There’s flesh ripping from the bone and teeth sinking into his neck and begging him, pleading for him to feed his, their hunger. 

He licks his lips, tries to imagine what Castiel’s blood tastes like. 

Maybe Castiel won’t mind...

 

_~From a little shell_  
 _At the bottom of the sea~_

Dean drifts around in his memories of Purgatory for the next few days; Castiel must take pity on him and leave him alone, for there are no distractions to allow the hundreds of souls that linger within him to leave him be. The souls that are becoming... that are a part of him. 

And Sam, Sam, well, he must have taken off with his girlfriend. It’s better to be alone anyway, especially with the inhabitants of Purgatory screaming out for attention and Dean’s own voice becomes drowned out among theirs, his own thoughts, ideas and dreams are lost to their whims and he feels he’s no longer human.

He is no longer human. 

The room is cold and goose bumps shift along his skin; the angel is pacing by the time Dean finally feels like glancing around the room. 

_Aww poor angel. Looks like he needs some love._

It’s the first time that all the various voices have held back to allow one to speak. Not surprisingly, the headache that comes on isn’t any less than usual, he grits his teeth together again, with a fierceness that brings forth pain, trying to drive them away, waiting for his teeth to crack like they should have ages ago. He lies back down and bears it, the agony, the sense of isolation that he once hated and now craves with every fiber of his being. With Castiel here he still feels alone, and it’s a perfect feeling. 

Dean’s mouth waters and Castiel’s eyes snap towards him; there is nothing but fear and worry in them and it makes each and every soul cry out with glee, the sudden noise shrill and unrelenting. Dean can barely feel anything but that hunger again, the hunger which is even strong enough to block out the pain. 

Cas turns away, already seeming to move towards the door even though he’s only just arrived. 

“I’ve brought you some company, Dean.”

Dean hears them quiet and cocks his head to the side, examining the angel, hoping he’ll move a little closer, but he disappears when a new figure steps into the room. 

He recognizes sharp amber eyes and a shorter stature than his own before a palm settles over his forehead and he welcomes the only peaceful dream he knows: gray sky, deformed clouds, teeth snapping and blood pumping. Malicious laughter drawing him in. His own voice screaming. 

He’s found it: his voice. 

 

_~With the earth and the moon_  
 _And the sun above me~_

“Get the fuck away from me!” His voice is still hoarse, but he imagines the effect of his words is still there. Not like the archangel would give a flying fuck about any of that; he just moves closer, not inches forward warily, but walks forward confidently as if Dean is perfectly fine at this point and there’s no chance of the hunter ripping him apart, with the massive multitude of souls egging him on for their own benefit. 

He knows he needs to keep it together, but something tells him that the archangel can take care of himself, and that maybe Dean can let go and try to relax a little. 

Those amber eyes though, it’s like they’re boring into him and it startles him. 

“Look at you, Deano, driving both Sam and Cassie away. The only reason I decided to drop by and give this a try is cause baby brother pleaded it of me. And of course,” he cups Dean’s cheek with a deeper intention than Dean wants to think about, causing the latter to pull away, sending his entire body slamming back into the headboard, gritting his teeth at the now more incessant throbbing in his head, “how can I resist your charms?”

The souls are quieter now, as if cowering back slightly in a fear they would never admit to their vessel. The archangel is unnerving them, and whether it’s just by his presence or something else, Dean honestly can’t say. He knows they’ll just come back with a vengeance anyway, taking out their fury for his unexpected arrival out on Dean. 

Give Dean a vote and he’d want the archangel out of this mess. 

But then he thinks back to his touch, a touch that sent jolting sparks of electricity through him, as if searching for something in him. “What do you want from me?” Now it’s the hunter’s turn to feel genuine fear as the archangel sits down on the end of the bed. 

“From you? Nothing. Well, maybe I’m lying, maybe I do want your cooperation.”

Dean just breathes, happy Sam got away, happy cause who the hell would want to be around him? “I won’t give in,” he grinds out. “Just take me back, why are you even dealing with me at all?”

The archangel sighs and disappears, causing Dean to jump in surprise slightly. And the thing he hates the most? 

He still can’t remember his name. 

 

_~But the world fell down_  
 _With some people still around~_

When the voices start to rupture the inside of his head, tilting his entire perception of reality dangerously, a hammer pounding into him every time he takes a breath and tries to hold on, causing him to start to forget who he is, he calls for him and he comes. He sits at the end of the hunter’s bed again; Dean stares at him and is struck at how he can’t turn his eyes away, at how he doesn’t really want to. 

His hand reaches for him but doesn’t touch him and Dean flinches, ashamed he wants this, telling himself that he doesn’t want this, that the archangel isn’t here to help him. But he waits a moment, grooves of pity etched deeply into his features and Dean looks away and doesn’t look back until he touches him and quiets him all at once. 

And it’s like they’ve gone back in time, and the archangel’s looking at him, right at him, like he’s up to no good and that was the biggest of Dean’s worries and something about it is so familiar that he almost forgets completely about Purgatory and its tactics and tortures. 

The silence is uncomfortable for a change and more than anything, Dean is aching for the archangel’s voice. 

“You don’t remember my name, do you? You know who I am, but you don’t know my name.”

Dean nods at his voice, quiet but sending his head reeling again, and he suspects his wide and watery eyes reveal everything, for the archangel scoots closer and leans against the headboard, right next to Dean. His legs are crossed and it seems like a comfortable position, except Dean feels something itching in the archangel that’s either pressing him to move closer or farther away. He must have major self-control though, for he doesn’t move an inch. 

It’s nicer, more peaceful and right than Castiel lying down next to him, fearful and in those last few hours trying so hard to understand what he previously thought he had understood. 

“You’re not afraid of me.”

“No,” the archangel admits. “Should I be?”

“Thank you,” and Dean means it, he means each word, and those two words mean thanks for more than just one little thing. Because everyone is afraid of him, both Sam and Cas and he’s even afraid of himself, but it’s so refreshing to have someone not be afraid of him, to have someone not care about what the souls could make him do. 

Dean catches his smile. 

 

_~There is love, there is love_  
 _To be found~_

Gabriel’s been hanging around quite a lot lately. 

“You want some soup?”

“Yeah,” Dean says after a moment of doubt, nodding hesitantly; he hates to show vulnerability around him, afraid he’ll take advantage of it. 

There’s something weird that happens whenever he hangs around him, the voices go away. He’s not sure whether the archangel’s doing this on purpose or if the souls are simply afraid of such a powerful being. Instead of feeling abandonment, he feels whole and full and concentrates on the sensation because it feels entirely new to him. The archangel seems to be pushing relaxation on him and maybe, just maybe, it’s actually working enough for Dean to feel a sense of belonging again.

He finally experiences what relaxation means again; even with the archangel’s eyes and full attention on him, his presence is soothing as gentle ocean waves and not pressing in the slightest, no questions or demands or a fear akin to the one he could taste engulfing Castiel. 

He is calm and collect and it more than just rubs off on Dean, he embraces it with everything he has. He forgets about Purgatory, isn’t dragged down by souls intent to devour him whole, corrupt him in any and every way possible. He forgets the feel of the dirt and the claws that once held him tightly, digging into his skin as if to claim his blood and break his fragile bones. 

He knows _he’s_ doing it. 

He wants to know _exactly_ how he’s doing it. 

The archangel walks back in with a tray and he sets it gently on Dean’s lap, hanging around for another second to make sure Dean can handle it and then making a move to leave. Before the hunter can hold his tongue, he speaks, “Wait,” in which the archangel turns around but doesn’t move closer; he won’t go anywhere near the edge of the bed and Dean can’t guess why. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Gee, I don’t know. You tell me, Deano.”

“I just... don’t...” He fumbles and it would be downright embarrassing around anyone, even more so that the archangel’s the one to take smug satisfaction in this. He looks pretty unreachable though, not amused and not pleased in the slightest, like something’s bothering him. 

“Don’t what? Come on, kiddo, tell me if it’s so important.” He’s treating it like a joke, Dean should have known better, that he’d treat this, everything he’s going through, like a joke that he can manipulate to his will and then shove off like he was never here in the first place, let alone his being here meaning something to Dean. 

Dean suddenly feels the urge to push the tray away and he does, he does as rage swirls up within him. “You know what? I think you should go. I think that you don’t really want to be here and that you should just leave me to...”

Tears start to fill his eyes again, like they always do now when he’s putting way too much effort into holding them in. He turns away from him, fully expecting him to leave. He doesn’t though, he crawls up on the bed, gets right up in his face and forces Dean to look at him. It’s different than it was with Cas too, his amber eyes hold him and it’s almost just like they’re promising never to let him go. 

Dean reluctantly looks into his eyes and he melts within their warmth, shivers with pleasure upon seeing the affection taking refuge in the archangel’s eyes. This must be some sort of dream because he doesn’t understand, there’s no possible way he can understand any of this. He wants the archangel to hold him with his gaze every second, wants him to never leave, in fact, just stretch out alongside him and mean, or at least pretend, that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but in these particular moments. But he must not want any of that, the archangel couldn’t want this. 

_Could he?_

And the word comes out of his mouth before he even realizes it. 

“Gabriel.”

There’s a long pause and a look of pleasant surprise that finally crosses Gabriel’s face and then he smiles. 

“You remembered my name.” He sits himself down comfortably, his fingers close to touching Dean’s own that are itching for connection, and the human wonders if this is all on purpose, and how beautiful it would be if it was. “It’s about time too.” There’s silence for a few long minutes before he startles Dean and speaks again, “Leave you to what? To die?” Dean looks away but Gabriel forces his head back to look at him, and Dean can do nothing but relent. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Winchester. I could leave you to die but I won’t, wanna know why?”

Dean gulps, “Why?”

“Because I made you a promise, and I don’t go back on my promises.” Dean can’t think of, or rather remember any promises made, but he doesn’t want to end this moment now. As far as he’s concerned, it’s a miracle that an archangel would make him any promises at all. Something must be up. 

_He’s perfect isn’t he?_

_Such a pretty little archangel who’s trying to tell you something. So shut up and listen!_

The shrill voice inside his head instantly dissipates and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. His headaches have stopped recently, because of Gabriel, and he feels a sense of belonging to this world that he never even felt before Purgatory, also due to Gabriel. 

“The souls...”

“I’m silencing them.” As if that was Gabriel’s responsibility all along, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Does it take much effort? Do you...?”

“No, Dean, and I’m happy to do it.” And he thinks Gabriel’s smile and dedication to him might just be enough to convince him to hold on. But when he thinks about the souls, when he knows they can never truly be gone, he wants to let himself break down for real this time. “So, what? You’re just gonna hang around until you heal me and then ditch me, throw me back to Sam and Castiel, who so clearly don’t want me?”

Gabriel merely looks at him with such disbelief it’s immensely painful to see played out on the archangel’s face. “Why would I do that?” Now they’ve both revealed themselves, and the ache in Dean’s chest isn’t as fierce as it was before Gabriel made his own intentions, although still pretty unclear, known. 

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Gabriel looks down on his hand, then looks back up at him; without glancing back down he brushes his thumb along the blistered skin and waits. Dean lets his hand move just an inch closer and the archangel takes it in his own, careful not to break the skin further. Dean breathes deeply for a second, panicking, thinking the worst thoughts even when he can feel Gabriel's eyes on him, feel them pulling him into security and a blissful silence. He can’t answer why he’s letting Gabriel touch him when he knows he’s too tainted to be touched, he can’t understand no matter how hard he tries why he chose to move his hand closer. 

“Do you remember the dream, Dean? The dream where I promised to protect you?” He racks his brain, but for the life of him Dean Winchester can’t remember. 

“You can’t protect me.” It feels different than with Cas because the angel already had his chance, and Gabriel’s the one person now wanting to live up to the task. Dean finds a hidden warmth in that that caresses him. 

“I can try. And it seems with the voices gone and the pain abating that I’m doing a pretty good job at it. A noteworthy performance, in fact.”

He doesn't think he can do this. “I don’t want you,” Dean quickly says, far too scared to speak the truth.

“What?”

“I don’t want you!” He shoves himself away from Gabriel and the voices slam into his head again instantly, assaulting him. He supposes he deserves it, all of it. He wishes he were better, that he wasn’t sick and twisted and beyond saving. He wishes he could be better for Sam and Cas and stop lying to Gabriel because he’s Dean Winchester and he’s afraid of the truth, the truth that he needs the archangel like he needs air. 

Even though he doesn’t deserve Gabriel being here right now; Gabriel just can’t see it, or rather, doesn’t care. 

“You’re a good man, Dean, and you deserve better. Purgatory doesn’t control you anymore.” Dean shrinks away, but Gabriel’s voice is too commanding to shrink away emotionally from. “Listen to me, Dean. Let someone take care of you, for once. Sam and Cas sent me here to do just that, and I’m here, I haven’t left you, even though I can’t do what they asked me to.” Dean glances up at him in shock as Gabriel continues, “I can’t heal you, there’s nothing left to heal.” Dean knew it, he knew it all along, but having someone tell it to you kills a part of you inside that you imagined was already gone, and it’s more painful than any physical wound. 

Still, Gabriel doesn’t stop. 

And maybe Dean doesn’t truly want him to. 

“But, Dean,” Gabriel says, his voice even more urgent as he tries to break through to the human, “what they don’t understand is that you don’t need to heal. And you need to realize this yourself, before you dig yourself back into the ground.”

“Why? How...? What?” There’s nothing about this that makes any sense... 

“I’m only one call away, Deano. Don’t hate me, I don’t hate you.”

_He doesn’t hate you. How could he not? There’s nothing to like in you. You don’t deserve the space and oxygen your world has to offer, you belong back here with us, child, come back to us and we’ll show you what it feels like to belong._

“Dean.” Gabriel warns, “Don’t listen to them.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” His head is starting to hurt again, from confusion, frustration and exhaustion. “Can’t you see that I have to go back, that I can’t resist them, that there’s no other choice?” Why can’t Gabriel see it? Why can’t Gabriel understand?

His amber eyes glisten though with what looks like fondness. “With me, you always have a choice. You need to prove to them that you’re stronger than they are, Dean. Stop giving in, stop getting depressed over showing weakness to me and do something about it.”

Yet all Dean can think about is going it alone, even though he’s been going it alone his entire life, he just doesn’t have the willpower to do it anymore. As long as he’s known Gabriel, for the most part he hasn’t trusted him or believed a single word he’s spoken; Gabriel’s the type of person who just shows up and then leaves whenever the hell he feels like it, and even though he’s here quite a bit more than seems normal for an archangel, Dean still can’t believe that he won’t up and leave again when Dean’s too broken to rely just on himself. “I can’t do it alone.” He wants to curse himself for admitting it, primarily to him of all people, but Gabriel’s eyes don’t lose that sparkle that Dean is falling into so confidently. 

“Whoever said you had to, mutton-head?” Dean checks Gabriel’s face to see if he’s lying, he’s not. He’s not and somehow his mind let’s him feel relief, a relief that he doesn’t deserve. 

“I’m gonna split for a while,” Gabriel sighs, “figure you might want a break from me.” Dean can’t even protest before he’s gone, and inside Dean screams over and over and over: ‘Don’t leave me. I need you. I need you. Can’t you see how much I need you? Can’t you see how much I love you?’

The dream comes back to him in painful waves throughout the remainder of the day. Without realizing it, his lips open and out pours the archangel’s name, beautiful on his lips and leaving a pleasant aftertaste that doesn’t forsake him when his throat dries back up again. Suddenly, the world is a bright and beautiful place again, not too much to handle. 

Suddenly, he feels like he could belong again. 

He wants to. 

 

_~With the gods all gone_  
 _And the souls making sounds~_

The next morning, there’s so much emotional and physical agony roiling around in his head that he just wants to black out and not wake up for another year, and not even then if he isn’t guaranteed its absence. The pain starts in his chest and radiates up to his head, making stars dance in front of his eyes and immersing him in a desperate struggle to pull in a decent breath of air. Most of the time it’s there, sometimes it just goes away, and he knows when he sees Gabriel exhausted that he’s the cause of it. 

Sam comes around more and Castiel is always around late at night or early in the morning, avoiding Dean for the most part when he’s awake, no doubt weighed down by guilt and sympathy that Dean wants to tell him he really shouldn’t have to feel. Don’t get him wrong, he loves seeing his brother and the angel who yes, he still has a profound bond with, but all he feels is guilt that he’s taking Sam away from his girlfriend, who he so clearly is more than happy with, and shame that he isn’t being stronger for Cas’ sake. 

And then there’s those times where he feels too many emotions all at once, for such an extended period of time, that inevitably his mind goes blank and he thinks of nothing but Gabriel. Why, he has no idea, except for the fact that he knows he’s growing too attached and dependent upon him. It’s just that every time he comes by, he radiates this positive, genuinely happy and bright energy that makes Dean happy in return, happy and coherent and more enthusiastic about getting better. It’s no doubt the part of his day that he looks forward to the most, and sometimes he just wants to tell the archangel, let him know he’s appreciated, even though it’ll never happen because of its massive potential for an embarrassment that would never be shaken. 

Gabriel hasn’t shown up yet, and even though it’s early morning and he hasn’t been awake and coherent enough through his delirium for more than forty minutes, he finds himself missing the archangel in a way he never has before. 

He finds himself thinking there’s something seriously wrong with him, and maybe it’s not only the whole Purgatory thing. 

 

_~In the worst way, in the worst way_  
 _In the worst way~_

“I’m a mess,” Dean chokes back a sob and buries his head in the nearest pillow. Gabriel places a hand on his back gently and leaves it there for the longest time. 

“I know, kiddo.”

“You gonna tell me things are gonna get better?” Dean sniffs, wiping his tears frantically off on the pillow; Gabriel’s seen enough though, and there’s no way of taking back this chick flick moment. He feels like he shouldn’t blame himself, what with the nonstop pain, exhaustion and confusion, losing the grip he has on reality inch by inch, but sometimes he just wants Gabriel to go away so that he doesn’t have to witness any of this. 

“No, they never really do. But being a mess doesn’t make me any less attracted to you.”

Suddenly, the silence runs deep within him. There’s all these emotions again, all rolled up into one hugely conflicted ball. His heart stops and for once it isn’t brought on by the voices, and it doesn’t cause a horrific panic in him. 

“What?” Dean turns back to Gabriel with wide eyes. It wasn’t just his imagination, was it?

“Little did your brother and angel know that they had used their skills for purposes far beyond their imaginations.” Gabriel grins and Dean shivers at the seemingly good intentioned nature of it, merely staring at him, disbelieving, unsure how to take this new, massive amount of information in. “Oh, come on, kiddo. I’ve been sending out the signs for weeks. Are you that dense? Wait... don’t answer that question.”

“Gabriel?” Dean touches the archangel’s arm and he nods in response, giving the hunter the go ahead. He sits up further, pressing himself tightly into Gabriel’s embrace; he’s warm and cozy and emits so much peace that Dean just takes it all in and nearly explodes in ecstasy. 

“Can we just pretend that this isn’t a chick flick moment we’re having right now?” Gabriel chuckles in response and Dean snuggles deeper, fully unprepared to release him, deciding the archangel won’t mind. 

And he doesn’t, he merely kisses Dean’s forehead and remarks, “I can’t wait till we get to the sex, I’ve got too many images dancing around in my head.” 

Dean smiles and let’s Gabriel’s heartbeat soothe him into sleep. It all feels like some sort of sappy dream, but Dean’s determined to love it and sink wholeheartedly into it even if it isn’t the real deal. 

 

_~It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz_  
 _It’s the buzz_  
 _It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz_  
 _I wish I was~_

The next day is when everything changes. The pain heightens and so do the voices, the doubts start to claim him again over what Gabriel’s intentions exactly are, but they’re created and fueled solely by the wretched things inside which are taking back hold of him, and Dean fights against them. Gabriel must easily notice this for he stays in the room, in the chair next to Dean’s bed, but he doesn’t come any nearer, doesn’t offer his touch or his voice, knowing that’s exactly what Dean can’t handle and therefore, doesn’t want. 

The second day is much the same. Dean looks over at Gabriel when he needs the connection and turns away in shame the other half of the time. 

The third day, Dean breaks in two. A part of him wants isolation and the other part wants Gabriel. It’s the latter that wins out in the end. Though it’s too bad that most of the day is spent blacking out from the pain and trying to still his shaking hands so they won’t gouge his eyes out. The voices are screaming, every time he shuts his eyes they force them open again and he feels like he’s slipping further down into insanity more and more as each second passes by. 

He keeps looking at the clock but it doesn’t mean a damn thing. All he knows is that his time is up. 

The souls tried to convince him, to push him back to Purgatory but they’ve failed, and now they’re turning to another option, the option that if Dean won’t go back, they’ll drag him back anyway. They’ll drag him out of this world and send him back to the memories of Purgatory in his head. And this time, he won’t be able to escape them. 

He doesn’t belong here anymore, and Gabriel trying to anchor him down doesn’t help things any. 

He doesn't remember when he retreats into the twisted confines of his mind, now plagued, _consumed_ by the souls and their endless grating, demanding voices. When he wakes, he can’t remember where he is, and it frightens him later on when he realizes he had no idea who the amber eyed man was at the time, who had been hovering over him like his own personal bodyguard, eyes set in concentration, fingers rubbing small circles into the skin of Dean’s stomach absentmindedly. 

Now he’s determined to remember, to never forget Gabriel’s name again. Because maybe, just maybe, if he’s lucky, it’ll be the last thing he ever remembers. 

 

_~It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz_   
_It’s the most fuzz~_

The pain is so much that Dean can hardly breathe, let alone focus on hiding it from Gabriel. 

Castiel hovers in the doorway, listening to Sam moving around frantically downstairs. He watches Dean push away physically and emotionally from Gabriel, but the archangel pulls himself closer, putting a hand on Dean’s arm and joining him on the bed. Dean turns his bloodshot eyes away from his presence but the archangel won’t accept it, and he uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the human’s tears as they fall. 

“I couldn’t do it, couldn’t fight them...”

“Don’t,” Gabriel shakes his head and settles down in front of him, looking like he’s all too set to remain there forever. Castiel didn’t expect this, any of this, didn’t expect his brother to grow so attached to his own charge. 

“I’m such a fuck-up, I can’t do anything right. Just leave me alone,” but when Gabriel rubs his hands up and down his arms, Dean doesn’t deny that he wants his touch. It’s even more surprising to Castiel that Dean Winchester, of all people, is giving in. He’s basically declaring how much he wants Gabriel, and Gabriel seems to be reciprocating that desire. 

It was a good decision after all. 

“I think I know what to do now.”

“What?” Dean looks up, eyes filled with a desperation that neither angel nor archangel can ignore. It pains Castiel to see Dean so much in pain, to see Gabriel in an even deeper pain because of it. He wants to know what his brother’s intentions are, but then again, he suspects he already knows. 

“Cas,” his brother turns to him, ignoring the look of confusion on Dean’s face. He doesn’t want to explain, because the human would never accept. “I need you to go get Sam.” Castiel nods without hesitation and heads downstairs, bringing Sam back up with him. He looks drained and beyond worried but also determined in a way that the angel has only ever seen directed towards his own brother. 

Sam doesn’t wait for Gabriel to call him over to the bed; he runs his fingers gently through Dean’s matted hair and blinks tears away. Dean breaks eye contact with Gabriel to look up at him, though the archangel never tears his eyes away from Dean. He gives the two some peace before he forces the eldest Winchester to look back at him. 

“I’m going to take it away, okay?”

“I thought you said that you didn’t need to? That you couldn’t anyway?” Dean questions, and Castiel moves forward because he knows he is needed. “He can’t,” Castiel admits, “without consequences.” Dean only spares him his gaze for a moment before glancing back up at Gabriel. 

It doesn’t take too long for his face to break down into horror.

“No.”

“Yes.” Gabriel says this with no room for argument, he could give a damn about the consequences or what Dean thinks. Dean doesn’t get a choice in this, if Gabriel wants to give, he’s going to give. 

“No,” Dean says again, shaking his head and the anger in him only flares up for a second before Gabriel can literally taste the desperation and sadness coming off of him in unbearable waves. “Whatever you think you have to do, don’t do it. I’m not worth it.”

Gabriel tucks some of the hunter’s hair back behind his ear. “Yes, you are. You were too dense before and in pain now, so I won’t blame you, but you are worth it. I’ve been denying it to myself for months, kiddo, but the truth is, that dream you don’t remember was my way of telling you.” 

Dean’s bottom lip starts to tremble in despair, and his head throbs fiercely as he continues racking his brain, searching for the dream, for his once reaction towards it, to what Gabriel did and said and all that he could have meant. He can’t find it, it’s so damn frustrating that he can’t find any fragment of it and somehow, he hates the archangel for what he thinks he might know, but will never ask out loud. “Telling me what?” 

“Let Gabriel take care of you, Dean,” Castiel steps in. ‘Let Gabriel love you,’ he thinks. 

_That’s right Dean. Give into Gabriel, he’ll pull you under with him._

_What’s wrong with you, smart ass, think he could ever love a disaster like you? He’s only using you. He’s here to trick you, he doesn’t give a damn about you._

_Come back with us, let us take care of you, child._

Dean screams with rage at the voices to go away and leave him alone, but the only thing he receives in turn is a white hot agony that starts just behind his eyes and travels down to his chest. “You are mine,” he can hear Gabriel speak, can feel Sam’s arms pull him back against his chest and hold him still when everything retreats into silence once more. It feels just like when it did when he came back from Purgatory. He won’t fight because he doesn’t have the energy to fight, not with the voices as well as Sam holding him down and preventing him from trying, trying to stop Gabriel, who doesn’t deserve any of this. 

Who most certainly doesn’t deserve to sacrifice himself for him. 

The last thing he sees are Gabriel’s apologetic though immensely determined eyes, and he wants to say he’s sorry, but the world around him turns to a blinding white before settling to a deadly black. 

 

_~From a little shell_  
 _At the bottom of the sea~_

Dean wakes up to Castiel saying his name and an archangel collapsed on the bed beside him, miraculously breathing and that’s when Dean realizes he had stopped his own breathing in panic. 

He starts back up again, figuring he should stop worrying Castiel so much. “Is he okay?”

The angel nods, “Yes, he will be fine. Although the procedure took a lot out of him.” He saw in Gabriel’s eyes that he was prepared to die, and no doubt Dean had seen it too, no doubt that’s why Dean was fighting with every ounce of strength in him, which wasn’t much, until he was subject to black out. He had looked away from the scene momentarily when it was over, only to glance back and see Sam releasing his brother, his arms shaking from either exertion or sadness, Castiel didn’t know, he expected a little of both. 

And then Gabriel had fallen to the ground, sending Sam rushing over to him and checking for a pulse before picking him up carefully and placing him back on the bed, back where he belonged, with his brother. Castiel had felt peace then, overtaking the great sadness of Gabriel falling, believing he was dead, and his eyes met Sam’s own exhausted though heavily relieved ones. Sam’s arms had wrapped around him, and he had returned the hug gladly, eyeing Dean and Gabriel, and he had thought that maybe they were meant to be. 

“I thought it was going to kill him.” Dean pulls him out of his musings. 

“I as well,” Castiel admits, swallowing hard and allowing himself to become a third occupant of the bed. He watches Dean carefully, gaging his emotions and checking his soul. It’s as bright as it was when Castiel rescued him from hell, it never dimmed, not once, not even when he came back from Purgatory, not even when Dean believed he couldn’t be saved and couldn’t be loved. 

“Why would he do that, Cas?”

Castiel can’t explain, there are no decent words for Gabriel’s devotion and love. Dean only needs to experience it. 

 

_~With the earth and the moon_  
 _And the sun around me~_

Dean pulls Gabriel back, grunting in pain rather than with his weight; he’s surprisingly light for someone who stuffs himself with cake for most of the day. He doesn’t stop pulling him closer until he’s pressed up against his chest, Dean serving as the big spoon and they’re a perfect fit, though Dean will never admit that out loud. Gabriel feels like he’s made to be tightly wrapped up in his embrace, his shorter height allows the Winchester to place his own head on top of the archangel’s and smile upon realizing how much he loves Gabriel. 

He said it. Or at least thought it, anyway. 

The souls kept pushing him away and denying that he would ever feel this particular emotion, but he said it. And he means it. 

Despite the constant pain in his chest that goes along with the similar ache in his head, he views providing Gabriel comfort after giving so much to help Dean, far more important than preventing himself from aggravating the pain. He grimaces when Gabriel sinks deeper into him, but then switches it with another smile. Gabriel might smite him for this when he wakes up, but it’s so worth it. 

It’s so worth this perfect moment with a perfect archangel. 

 

_~There is love, there is love_  
 _There is love~_

Gabriel works his way back up to consciousness slowly, making a whining noise in his throat which leads to a very nearby chuckle; his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Where is he?

He feels arms wrapping around him, but it’s more of an adjustment than a new sensation. Something tells him the person behind him has been there for a while. He figures he must have blacked out. 

“You gonna wake up so I can regain feeling in my arms again? Literally every part of me actually.”

Gabriel swallows and opens his eyes, gazing up into Dean’s own, beautiful hazel ones that are incredibly happy. It’s so refreshing to see them no longer filled to the brim with tears, desperation and a pain Gabriel couldn’t bear to witness. 

“What is going on? You’re not actually spooning me, are you, Deano?”

“What if I am?” Dean responds, his voice no longer hoarse with pain. Gabriel has been waiting for this moment for incredibly too long. He lifts himself up, shocked that he isn’t the slightest bit sore, and presses himself back down into Dean, this time looking down at him with all his intentions for the hunter clearly played out on his face. He bends down to catch Dean’s lips with his own, and the human kisses back for a moment before he pulls away. “Ow ow ow ow ow.”

Gabriel instantly lifts himself off of Dean and looks down at him in concern, “You okay? Chest hurting again? Want me to kiss it better?”

Dean shoves the archangel’s face away from him. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” 

Gabriel relents but suddenly realizes he was pressed back against the human’s chest for who knows how many hours, and grimaces at the vision. “You could have just laid me down next to you,” he tells him, but Dean only says ‘nah,’ trying and failing to hold back an adorable blush for which the archangel grins in response. “You wanted to be close to me,” he gazes deeper into Dean’s eyes, searching for more of the all too apparent truth. “Didn’t you?”

“I didn't want you to die,” Dean pouts, “but you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What can I say, Deano? I’m as stubborn as you are.”

“If you had died, Gabriel, what would I have done? You’re selfish, I have enough guilt to live with every day.” 

Gabriel just continues to look down at him curiously. “And you being in pain, I just had to deal with that, huh? Just had to sit back, twiddle my thumbs and sacrifice my happiness? Boy, _I_ feel like I’m the victim here.”

In order to forcefully shove the tears of happiness about to come out aside, Dean growls, “Just shut up and kiss me already. I’m done with the chit chat.” 

Gabriel nods gleefully and obeys, “You make me so proud, Dean,” he rolls his tongue around in Dean’s mouth, sending the human’s taste buds on fire. Dean runs his hand through Gabriel’s hair and it makes him wild with love and lust. “I want you.”

“Love you too.” And then he can’t help but mumble, “Wish I was better for you though.”

“You already are, Dean. You’re perfect.” This perfect moment with a perfect archangel who thinks _he’s perfect too._ “Though any more of this self-pity crap,” Gabriel continues, “and you’ll be catering to me for a month, or maybe I’ll just put you in a coma.” Gabriel seems to think about this long and hard but Dean can only think about showing Gabriel just how much he _really_ means to him. 

“You do and I’ll just wake up and gank your ass.”

Dean says screw the pain in his chest and only brings Gabriel closer to him, desperate to feel his skin, every part of him. His tongue finally ventures out of the confines of his own mouth to move onto more delectable areas, and with the archangel just as desperate as he is, breathing hard and moaning with a fiery lust suppressed for too long, Dean knows that his _want_ could only be genuine. 

Finally, Dean gets something he wants. And on top of that? He’s found someone he can happily belong to, _belong with,_ forever. 

That’s when he finally notices the voices are gone. 

 

_~It’s a buzz, it’s a buzz_  
 _It’s a buzz_  
 _It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz_  
 _I wish I was~_

Dean wakes up to his stomach growling fiercely and a strength surging up within him and radiating out through his entire body that he hasn’t felt in ages. He smiles at Gabriel’s delectably warm and completely naked body squished up tightly against his own, careful when separating himself to crawl out of bed and leave the room. 

It takes a few minutes for him to adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window; he’s been in that dark and stuffy bedroom for ages, it helped his headache slightly after all, though he’s more than happy though to get out of there and take in some daylight. It makes him feel alive again. 

He only manages to open the fridge and take the eggs out before there’s a minute stirring of the air and someone, he knows exactly who, appears behind him. “Hey,” Gabriel breathes in his ear, arms wrapping tightly around his waist and Dean doesn’t think he’ll last another minute at this rate. Gabriel isn’t even technically doing anything yet and he’s going crazy. “You're not supposed to be out of bed.”

“Why not?” Dean pouts, trying and ultimately failing to distract himself by opening up the carton of eggs and turning on the stove. 

“Because,” the archangel’s warm and wet tongue runs down his neck and the hunter shivers in anticipation and just a little disappointment. “I said so. What’s the point of whipping you up a mouthwatering breakfast in bed if you’re not in bed?” 

“Come on, Gabe,” he whines, “I’m freaking starving here, stop tempting me.” His stomach protests again and the archangel laughs. 

Gabriel, surprisingly being a gentleman, gives in and makes an offer Dean can’t refuse. “Alright then, we’ll take a break, though not for too long, kiddo. It’s your own fault after all, tempting me so early in the morning.” He kisses the hunter’s neck and unwraps his arms, his hands making a beeline for the cupboards and then the fridge. “The least you can do would be to put a shirt on, you’re making me go crazy over here.” ‘The feeling’s mutual,’ Dean thinks, grinning and starting to pull out the eggs but the archangel stills his hands. “Uh huh,” he shoves his mate aside, “no cooking for you, go sit down and watch, let me show you _my kick ass_ cooking skills.”

“However the hell did I find you?” Dean murmurs in both happiness and astonishment, sliding into one of the chairs at the breakfast bar, all too content to watch Gabriel cater to him. All too content to just watch Gabriel nonstop actually. 

“You got lucky, Deano. Don’t forget it.”

Dean vows he won’t as he watches Gabriel flip pancakes and wink at Dean, who can clearly see joy in every single look and action taken. Maybe a normal life wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

 

_~It’s a buzz, it’s a buzz_  
 _It’s a buzz~_

_It won’t last, you know it; he’s a Winchester and has never had anything but a death wish, and you get bored so easily, don’t deny it. One of you will perish, just let us take him back. We miss him, we need him._

On sheer will alone he breaks away from starkly gray clouds and razor-like teeth, but the voice remains, echoing in the background, pressuring him. 

Gabriel tells the voice to shut up and curls back up alongside Dean. This was his choice and he’s more than happy to carry the burden for Dean’s sake, since he can handle it so it won’t break him. Right?

_Just keep on telling that to yourself, archangel._

Gabriel feels his eyes burn and Dean drifts up out of sleep to see his mate’s eyes surprisingly turn red, though he promises himself to pay no mind, no matter how scared he may be. The only thing he wants is time, just a little time, because he knows being a Winchester doesn’t entitle him to more than that. Sam will be able to have it, that apple pie life with someone to share it, and Cas, well, Cas’ll just do whatever the hell he wants. Cas is always fine. Dean though, Dean will always be the one left behind because hunting is in his blood, engraved in his skin and he can’t escape it, doesn’t want to escape it. Gabriel doesn't want to admit it most of the time, but he was the brother left behind too, and somehow Dean can sense he likes it better that way. 

Does Dean like it better that way? On his own, letting his family go, running and never looking back?

Gabriel eyes are moving beneath their lids and Dean can sympathize, knows what he’s dreaming about is Purgatory, precisely Dean’s own memories, memories that Dean still has but are blocked enough for the souls to not find their way back. He brushes his fingers against the archangel’s skin and Gabriel’s eyes open to a vivid, mesmerizing gold. “It worked.”

Dean swallows, “What?”

He blinks and piercing red eyes scan over the hunter, holding him in place; one of the souls steals Gabriel’s voice and Dean can feel the macabre chill in Gabriel’s eyes. _We’ve found you._ Hands grip Dean’s throat and he grabs onto them, struggling to tear them off and breathe again; Gabriel’s eyes flash back and forth dizzyingly from gold to red and he manages to take back control after a moment. 

“Gabe?” Dean coughs, breathing hard. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

“We’ve gotta go back.”

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so yeah, kinda a weird ending, which was purely intentional, leaving what will happen to the two open to interpretation. I wanted to be realistic in that the Winchesters only ever have short-lived happy endings, if you could even call them that. There may be a continuation to this in the future, no promises though. Anyway, thanks for reading!


End file.
